Pop

Libertine on the loose

The dizzy heights of Peter Doherty's exploits as a Libertine mean that he shouldn't be touring tiny venues. Exiled from the band until he deals with his destructive addiction to hard drugs, his compulsion to play impromptu shows in venues as disparate as car parks, his east London flat and grotty boozers at least seems like an anchoring point in the chaos.

A sweaty clutch of Libertines obsessives and curious hipsters, those intent on witnessing a lost soul in the throes of a rock'n'roll saga openly wonder whether he'll actually turn up. Cries of 'We love you, Pete!' and 'Jesus... ' greet him when he eventually shambles on stage accompanied by former One Dove chanteuse Dot Allison.

With skin the colour of milky tea and glassy eyes that betray his misery, there's never any pretence towards polished musicianship. Clutching a battered acoustic guitar to his chest, Doherty accompanies Allison in a spaced-out and haunting cover of Massive Attack's 'Teardrop' before she returns the favour on 'Don't Look Back Into the Sun', tapping out a tinny phrase on a mini xylophone.

For all that, Doherty is an undeniable musical talent, capturing English eccentricity in three-minute bursts of wiry, demonic hooks. Howls of delight greet Libertines anthems such as 'What a Waster' and new single 'Can't Stand Me Now', the crowd filling in for Carl Barat's missing vocal retorts.

But as Doherty's microphone fills with spit, his voice sounding like it's coming through a muffled telephone line, this faint rendition of his former band in full flow only stands to underscore the wretchedly obvious: the Libertines need Peter and he needs the Libs.